


of jaws and birthdays

by caraminha



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, It's Soft, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, birthday fic, happy birthday babe, this is for my babe leah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15082523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caraminha/pseuds/caraminha
Summary: "He finally fell into bed barely noticing that it was 12:06am, and that he was now officially a 16-year-old.(Or the fact that at 12:00 on the dot, Mr Stark had sent him 15 texts with all the birthday emojis and grinning faces he could possibly find, topped off with a 16th text that simply said 'Happy birthday kid x’)"Just a soft little birthday fic for my fav Buckets_of_Stars' birthday, with a little bit of the customary hurt/comfort to add icing to the cake like she loves ;)





	of jaws and birthdays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Buckets_Of_Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/gifts).



> happy birthday leah i adore u x

  
Peter got a square punch in the jaw on patrol last night. 

  
Yowch.

  
The guy he was saving didn’t even thank him for his service or anything! What a goddamn ass. People with no manners were Peter’s biggest pet peeve. 

  
He definitely would’ve commented to Karen that it’s _not that hard to say thanks, is it, really,_ but it kinda _was_ at the time – seeing as his jaw was super wonky, and all. 

  
It kind of clicked back into its original position (he hoped, because it wasn’t like he was a doctor or anything) whilst he was in the shower, and he finally fell into bed barely noticing that it was 12:06am, and that he was now officially a 16-year-old.

  
(Or the fact that at 12:00 on the dot, Mr Stark had sent him 15 texts with all the birthday emojis and grinning faces he could possibly find, topped off with a 16th text that simply said _‘Happy birthday kid x’_ )

  
5 hours and 16 minutes later, if he hadn’t been aware that it was his birthday before, May made sure he certainly was now. 

  
He smelt the pancakes and candles before he heard her, and he pushed a dazed, dopey smile into his pillows. As per their unspoken tradition, he’d pretend to be asleep when May came in.

  
“Happy birthday to you,” she sang softly, opening the door and placing the tray on his desk, “happy birthday to you,” she leant in, “happy birthday dear my-baby-boy-who-is-still-six-not-sixteen-but-let’s-not-get-into-that-right-nooooow,” she sang all on one note, kissing his hair, “happy birthday to you.” 

  
She poked him in the side and Peter rolled over into her, letting his love for her reach his eyes. “Thanks, May.”

  
“Happy sweet sixteen, baby.” She reached over for the tray, that had not only the pancakes and fruit on it, but also foamy, homemade orange juice with an extra slice stuck on the rim of the glass and a little cocktail umbrella in it, a bunch of presents and envelopes stacked beside it.

  
“Well let me in!” 

  
They curled up together under the blankets and Peter shared his pancakes with her. He stuck on their favourite _Spotify_ 80s playlist in the background, and he opened his cards and gifts with the orange slice in his mouth, saving May’s two “main” gifts for last. She never believed him no matter how many times he insisted it, but he loved all her little presents – this year a rainbow-casting wind chime, scented erasers, a head massager, some funky socks, and two lightsabre pens. 

  
“Now, I know there’s only two _main_ presents, but I figured good things come in small boxes, right?”

  
Peter smiled and nodded. “Which one first?”

  
“Uhhh,” she waggled her index finger in a circle above them, then pointed to the slightly smaller one, “that one first.”

  
He ripped open the holographic wrapping paper excitedly. Inside was a pretty cloth bag with a sequin 16 on it. It jangled when he shook it. May waggled her eyebrows at him. 

  
A set of car keys fell out when he tipped the contents into his hand, complete with a Spider-Man keyring. His jaw dropped and he turned his head to look at May, who was chuckling at his speechlessness.

  
“ _That_ part you have to thank Tony for.” Peter’s stomach twisted with delight and a little annoyance that Tony spent this much money on him when he _expressly forbid_ him from getting him anything, “I’m paying for the instructor.”

  
Peter exhaled. Instructors were expensive, and he knew this would be a stretch for May. He stared at her thankfully, mouth forming around a compromise that _he_ pay half, or more, preferably, with his savings.

  
“ _No_ arguments.” May used the back of her hand to shut his mouth poignantly. His jaw hurt at the movement. “I’ve been saving for this for a while. Now you can take your long-suffering Aunt May to the beach whenever she so desires, huh?”

  
Peter relented. “ _Whenever_ she so desires.” He repeated emphatically. He dropped his head onto her shoulder. “Thank you so much, Aunt May.”

  
“You deserve it, baby. Make sure you thank Tony, too. He was very adamant he got you this car. You know, I’m not sure how he even managed to keep his big mouth shut about it! He’s been very excited about it all. Spent hours and hours deciding, called me a million times.” 

  
Peter ducked his head and smiled. _Of course he did._

  
“Okay, next one, next one!” 

  
The second gift was box shaped. Once he’d pulled off the perfect wrapping, he took a second to admire the jeweller’s crest on the top. He already knew what it was.

  
He swallowed, thumbs stroking over it. He looked up to May, who nodded him on with teary eyes. 

  
Inside was his Uncle Ben’s watch – cleaned up, and repaired, and shined and polished. 

  
“Your dad got it for him for his sixteenth.” She said quietly. “He was always going to give it to you for yours.” 

  
The song playing on his phone ended and shuffled to _’Walk of Life’_ by the Dire Straits. Both of them chuckled. It was Uncle Ben’s favourite. 

  
“How fitting, huh?” Peter nodded in reply. “Times like this… they remind me that he’s always here. You know?” She put her arm around him and squeezed.

  
He pulled the watch out of the padding reverently and inspected it. Eyes misting up and a lump forming in his throat, he held it up to his nose, smelling the leather for Uncle Ben’s scent. It was still there.

  
“Want me to put it on for you?” 

  
He held out his left wrist, turning it upside down so May could tighten the clasp. It fit comfortably, perfectly. 

  
He felt love swell up in him for his Dad and Uncle, and the pride that he was their son, that they were still there, and that he was living his life for them.

  
He kissed May on the cheek, settling into her embrace with the comforter swallowing them. “Thank you. I love them.”

  
The song played to the end, and they’d cried the tears they’d needed to cry by the time it was over.

  
“Tony’s coming to pick you up at 9 for _second breakfast._ ” She said it like a Pippin from _Lord of the Rings_ , which made him snort laughing. 

  
May had to go to work, didn’t have the days owing to take today off. Peter didn’t mind – of course, he’d prefer to have her here for his birthday, but he was looking forward to spending the day with Tony, too. He, May and Ned would go for dinner tonight.

  
“Perfect.”

* * *

  
Tony waited out on the street for him, leaning up against the hood of his sports car. He had his favourite circular sunglasses on, (“You look like John Lennon!”) and a huge smile on his face.

  
When he saw Peter, he stood up straight and landed a firm hand his shoulder, shaking it back and forth excitedly. “Happy birthday, Pete.” He said quietly, affection bleeding into his tone.

  
“Thank you so much, for—for the _car_ , Mr Stark, oh my _god._ It’s—it’s a whole ass car! Thank you so much. Even though I think I remember telling you not to get me anything.”

  
“I don’t take instructions from people younger than me, sorry.” Tony held up his hands in apology as they got into the car. “It’s just this little rule I have. And you know me. I don’t like breaking rules.”

  
“So when I tell you to go to sleep at 3am when you text me from the lab, you don’t?”

  
“Never once have.” He gunned the engine. 

  
“I’m telling on you.”

  
“Oh no, I’m scared!” Tony laughed. “Seriously, kid, you’re gonna have to come up with a better comeback now, you’re sixteen! Throw a cuss in there or something. Go wild.”

  
“Uh, did you not hear me say ‘ass’ back there?”

  
“Oh, I sure did. And I’m telling on you.”

  
Peter had the Olympic sized cooked breakfast. He was usually a lot more awkward about letting Tony buy him food, sticking to the cheaper stuff or only ordering a regular portion size, but today _was_ his birthday, so he let himself fill his whole massive appetite. 

  
Tony looked severely pleased.

  
“God, I think Gutbucket Peter is my absolute favourite Peter ever.”

  
“Even more than Spider-Man Peter?” Peter laughed. 

  
“Oh, I hate Spider-Man Peter. That asshole is too kind-spirited. Puts me to shame. Hate that guy.”

  
Peter went to reply, instead wincing when the pain in his jaw spiked for a second. Tony, ever-sharp, didn’t miss it. 

  
“You okay there? You eat yourself into an injury?” The joke held thinly-veiled concern, and both of them knew it.

  
“I’m good.” He flashed Tony a toothy grin, but it made his jaw hurt _again_ , and he sighed. Tony raised his eyebrows sardonically. “Okay, so I think I did a number on my jaw last night. But it’s all good! It’s healed, just, like, a little bit tender or something, I swear.”

  
“And you’d know that it healed back into the correct place… because of your M.D., right? Because you’re a medical professional? Yeah.”

  
Peter sighed. “I’m fine.”

  
“And I’m 45 with no sign of grey hairs. Bruce is looking at that when we get back.” Tony pointed his fork at him, the motion equivocating no argument.

* * *

  
“Yeeep, that was definitely broken. Definitely.” Bruce palpated the muscle at Peter’s chin. “This hurt?”

  
Peter bit back a hiss and Bruce moved his hand away. “Not that much.” He lied.

  
“Yes.” Tony called across the room, where he leant against a wall, hands shoved in his pockets and watching dutifully.

  
Peter shot him a warning glance. Tony fake-cringed and mouthed, _”Oooooh, scary.”_ and Peter had to roll his eyes to oblivion and suck his lips into his teeth not to laugh. 

  
“Well, I’m really sorry to say this on your birthday, Peter, but I’m gonna have to re-break and re-set this. It's healed just a little off, and it'll keep grating until it's fixed.” Peter’s eyes widened, and Tony quickly pushed away from the wall to stand by his side. He put his hand on his shoulder - a silent _”It’s okay.”_

  
“Okay. If you really have to.” Bruce nodded.

  
“Good man. I’ll get what I need. Try and relax, it’ll make this easier.”

  
“Hey, who doesn’t like getting off-your-head high on your birthday? Think that’s what I was doing on my sixteenth, at least.” Tony joked. Peter didn’t laugh, just stared up at him sadly. He hated when Tony joked about his hard childhood.

  
Tony deflated. “It was a long time ago, champ.”

  
Bruce hooked him up to his and Tony’s ‘Extra Strength Superkid Good Stuff For Good Times Only’, as the latter insisted it be called. It made everything fuzzy, and his axis tilted till his head hit Tony’s side.

  
“Whoa there. Sit back, Pete, there we go.” Peter leant against the end of the bed, which was elevated so he could sit up almost-straight. Even so, his centre of gravity still seemed to shift to Tony’s side. If Tony knew he was doing it on purpose, he didn’t comment on it.

  
“I’m so high right now.”

  
Tony chuckled from where he stood beside him, arms crossed. “Don’t tell your Aunt May.” He said, watching Bruce pull on gloves.

  
“Not gonna tell her I broke m’jaw, c’mon. Not an idiot.” 

  
“Good point. Smart move, kid. Big respect to you for that one.”

  
“Mr Stark?”

  
Tony turned bodily to look at the kid, careful not to jostle him too much from where his head was leant against him. “Yeah, kid?”

  
“I… yeah… you… I…”

  
“Don’t burst a blood vessel, Peter, it’s alright.” He put a hand on the back of his head. Peter looked up at him with a lopsided, warm smile.

  
“I wanna—”

  
“Okay, Pete, tell me, does this hurt?” Bruce pinched Peter’s cheek tightly. Peter’s saucer-eyes travelled lethargically from Bruce, to Tony and back to Bruce. 

  
“Does what hurt?”

  
Bruce smirked at Tony. Nobody could resist _sober_ Peter. Doped up Peter was an instant kill.

  
He pinched the other side, and when Peter didn’t react at all, he nodded in satisfaction. The kid wouldn’t feel this.

  
All the same, Tony grabbed Peter’s hand. They’d drugged Peter up before – his nose had needed to be rebroken twice before already – but it always made him nervous anyway.

  
Ever the professional, Bruce made quick work of the process. Peter barely noticed, busy drawing circles with the hair on the back of Tony’s hand. Tony’s stomach pitched a little at hearing the crunch, but settled quickly when Peter piped up with a heavily delayed, “What was that sound?” and he had to laugh.

  
Once it was done, they took Peter up to the couches in the living room. 

  
It’d be about 90 minutes before he’d be back to his normal self – he wasn’t kidding when he said this stuff was Extra Strength; even Peter’s metabolism had to walk through it like treacle. Once he was okay again, they could go about their day. Tony had a lot planned.

  
He gave the kid a glass of water, having to jump in, laughing, to stop him from spilling it all down his front by virtue of missing his mouth completely. 

  
He placed the glass down and sat beside the floppy kid. Peter giggled. 

  
“Hey, what’s funny?”

  
“Nothin’.”

  
Tony made his face turn faux-serious. “Tell me right now, Peter Parker. I wanna join in on the fun.”

  
“Almost called you Dad before. Before Bruce fixed m’jaw.”

  
Tony bit his tongue, awkwardness escaping his every pore. 

  
But, even more so powerful than that, a shy kind of happiness filled him.

  
He wasn’t going to lie – he did consider himself to be a sort of pseudo father-figure to Peter. He’d never voice that, and he’d _definitely_ never expected Peter to think so too.

  
“You did, huh?” 

  
“Yeah. Don’t have…” he exhaled, exasperated at being unable to express himself. He held up his watch for Tony to inspect instead. Tony took it obligingly and softly said, _”It’s very nice, that. Very nice, Pete,”_ at which Peter beamed, now knowing how to continue, “don’t have my Dad or my Uncle anymore… and I di’n’t think… _you know_ … I’d have another one.” Tony didn’t need him to clarify what ‘another one’ meant, and it tugged at his heartstrings that Peter had even implied it. “But… I kind of do now. So… yeah. Thanks.”

  
Tony sighed. He put his arm round him. “I get you, kid. And I kind of like you, too, I guess.”

  
“Be nice to me, it’s my birthday an’ I’m high as balls.”

  
Tony grinned. “Then I love you too, kid. Happy birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> ... did someone say new chapter of keep your friends close tonight or tomorrow?


End file.
